Addicted to Love
by cessa
Summary: Hermione and Ron were the perfect couple. In fact, everyone thought that marriage was the next step…well, everyone but Ron. Will Hermione accept the fact that her beloved has run off with someone new? Not Likely! Features logbooks, graphs and Draco Malf
1. I love you

Addicted to Love  
  
Rated: PG-13 for Adult themes  
  
Disclaimer: Everything Harry Potter related belongs to JK Rowlings. Everything Addicted to Love related belongs to the maker of that great Movie. Anything added belongs to me!  
  
A/N: Hey Guys! This is based on the movie 'Addicted to Love' starring Meg Ryan and Matthew Broderick. However, I don't quote the characters (aside from a few lines) and there are quite a few added scenarios. So if you were a die-hard fan of the movie (like, VERY obsessed) I would advise not reading this!  
  
Thanks to my beta-reader Squeaky.  
  
Thanks guys! ___________________________________________________________________  
  
Prologue  
  
"I love you, Ronald Weasley."  
  
"And I love you, my own, sweet Hermione."  
  
Hermione gazed up into the eyes of her long time boyfriend and sighed in pure, romantic bliss. She could never ever remember feeling so strongly about one single person and she doubted she ever would again. Ron was and always would be her one true love.  
  
It had all started at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. As joint best friends with the famous Harry Potter, Ron and Hermione had lived the lives of the basic sidekicks. They had helped Harry, won wars, fallen in love and ultimately become the envy of their generation.  
  
Of course, things had not always been so perfect. Looking back, Hermione could now laugh at the petty fights and grievances that had so regularly occurred between Ron and her. Back then however, these battles hadn't seemed even remotely funny. Hermione remembered her complete and utter misery every time Ron so much as scowled in her direction. The slightest things had become ammunition between the two and their tiffs could last as little as a day or as long as months on end.  
  
Sometimes they were about important matters including Harry, friendship and trials but more often they were more trivial such as when Hermione had escorted Victor to the Yule Ball or when Ron had spilt pumpkin juice on Hermione's brand new, white, jumper.  
  
Either way, they always began with harsh words and ended with Hermione calling Ron an, "Obnoxious Prawn" and Ron replying with a classic, "know it all minx."  
  
Although one day both parties suddenly realized that they meant something else entirely.  
  
Sixth Year. Gryffindor Common Room  
  
"Ron!" Hermione screeched marching across the red rug, like a vicious Amazon prepared for a bloody war.  
  
"Yes, Hermione dear?" Ron had answered sarcastically, glaring at being disrupted during his chess game with Harry.  
  
"Don't be smart with me, Ronald Weasley! I know that you stole my Arithmancy book and I need it for my extension class this evening."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes and shot Harry a look that clearly read, 'mental'. Unfortunately, Hermione intercepted it and her temper rose another few degrees. If Ron didn't know better he might have assumed that she might just explode.  
  
"GIVE ME MY BOOK! Or, or . . . well, it will be bad!"  
  
"What are you going to do? Throw a book at my head?"  
  
"Are you kidding? That would be horrendous book abuse!"  
  
"What? Is it a bit sacrilegious for you?"  
  
A book came flying towards him, forcing him to duck quickly. Straitening up, Ron gave Hermione a look of pure fury and came storming towards her.  
  
"Look here, you prissy, little know-it-all. I did NOT steal you pathetic book. Why the hell would I want to do that? It's Arithmancy for crying out loud! I mean come on, you'd have to be mental to even look at the cover for too long."  
  
With a strangled scream, Hermione launched herself upon Ron and knocked him to the floor. It was only after she had punched his chest a few times that she came to her senses and subsequently was very embarrassed, as she was sitting square on his waist.  
  
Looking up shyly, Hermione tried to look into his deep blue eyes without blushing. It didn't work, however and Ron found himself mesmerized by the pink flush, creeping slowly up into Hermione's cheeks.  
  
"Know-it-all minx," he muttered and Hermione was both delighted and terrified to discover that suddenly it wasn't an insult anymore. It was something deeper. Pondering it for a moment longer, she tried to wonder what it all could mean. And then it became simple. Ron loved her.  
  
"Obnoxious prawn," she answered softly, watching as his face lit up.  
  
It was as if fireworks had suddenly erupted. Everything was clear as the blinding frustration melted into pure, simple and uncomplicated love . . .  
  
And it had been like that ever since.  
  
Weeks after the 'book incident' as both had taken to calling it, Ron had shyly asked Hermione to accompany him to Hogsmeade. Hermione had accepted, greatly anticipating her first date with the boy she loved.  
  
It had been fun . . . well, frustratingly fun. It was clear that neither of them knew how to handle this new relationship, with the date resulting in Hermione scabbing a lift back to Hogwarts with, of all people, Ron's archenemy Draco Malfoy. He hadn't spoken to her for weeks after that, but eventually they made up, and the make-up kiss that had followed, lead Hermione to induce several fights just to repeat that same moment.  
  
It was the same after they had graduated. With Voldemort finally vanquished, they could devote more energy to their constant squabbling. Mostly they fought because Hermione never backed away from her most treasured Head Girl position and Ron was often criticized for the slightest imperfections in his dress, manner or speech. Hermione also found herself being fed up with the long hours that Ron worked, complaining that the businesses that he strived to fix and repair were not his own, thus he should not sacrifice himself to them.  
  
Through all the fighting though, Hermione knew that Ron loved her and she in turn loved him. She fully expected him to propose to her sometime soon. After all, why else had he invited her to have a picnic lunch with him in the meadow in which they had shared the most intimate sort of love?  
  
Turning her attention back to her surroundings, Hermione marvelled at the pure beauty of the moment. Here she was lying with the man she loved in a beautiful field of wildflowers, with the cornflower blue sky and the winking sun. A humongous willow tree shaded them, its fantastic roots digging deep into the cool, rich soil and twisting through the field.  
  
Rolling over to face Ron, she marvelled at how well she knew his body. Every freckle on his face had been accounted for, every muscle on his body examined. She could describe him accurately from the bottom of his huge feet, with the slightly larger second toe, to the top of his thick, short, red hair.  
  
"Herm." He breathed softly, leaning over to blow slightly into her ear.  
  
Hermione laughed and kissed both his cheeks before denying the same favour to his lips.  
  
"Kiss me," he muttered. When she coquettishly grinned and shook her head, he growled softly and snatched her up, holding her tight to his chest.  
  
Feeling their hearts intertwine, Hermione tilted her head upwards and lightly laid a kiss on his lips. They were her favourite part of him. Soft, with one freckle on the upper lip, they were a pale pink. They were plump compared to other men she had known . . . plump and utterly kissable . . .  
  
Pulling her closer to him, Ron captured her before she could move away and pulled her into a deep passionate kiss . . .  
  
"Ron?" Hermione asked some time after they had finally broken apart. "What was it that you wanted to tell me?"  
  
Ron looked uncomfortable for a moment and then hoisted himself up into a sitting position. Hermione followed and situated her self firmly in his lap; delighting in the comfort that he gave her. Around Ron, nothing was surprising. It was as normal as doing the laundry and yet she loved it.  
  
"Hermione. . . Hermione."  
  
Hermione loved the way he said her name, rolling it around on his tongue, forever changing where he put the emphasis.  
  
"Yes, Ronnikins."  
  
He grinned affectionately at her and ruffled her hair before his expression smoothed out into a more serious face.  
  
"You're not exactly making this easy for me."  
  
"What isn't easy?" Hermione questioned, feeling her heart beat with excitement. He was going to ask her to marry him. She just knew it.  
  
"We're been going out for eight years now, right?"  
  
"Right."  
  
"Well . . . you know I love you, right?"  
  
Hermione almost started to laugh at how utterly nervous he was. Surely he didn't think she would say no? Not the man she had held such feeling's for since the very first time they had met.  
  
"Yes, Ron," she answered, "I do know how much you love me."  
  
"Uh . . . ok, good. Well, the thing is . . . God, this is so hard."  
  
"Spit it out."  
  
"This affects our relationship quite a lot, but . . ."  
  
"Yes, Ron, I will marry you, ok? There you go, now you don't have to ask. What made you think I would say no anyways? Ron, you know how much I adore you-"  
  
"Hermione," Ron cut in, frowning, "I was going to tell you that a massive firm has offered me a job."  
  
"Oh," said Hermione, deeply embarrassed. She soon cheered up however and added, "Ron! That's brilliant! I'm so proud of you sweetie . . . but how does this affect us?"  
  
Ron took a deep, deep breath.  
  
"Hermione, the job is in America."  
  
"WHAT!"  
  
"Shhh!" Ron replied, looking nervously around. "Look, I'm only going to be in America a week then I'm going back to London."  
  
"London is good! I can floo there!"  
  
Ron took another deep breath. "That's the only thing. My boss asked that we keep all personal commitments aside for this job. It's massive, Hermione. The firm rakes in several million a year . . . extraordinary."  
  
"Then why do they need you!" Hermione snapped, almost in tears. "It's pathetic. If they're so rich, why do they need an adviser . . . for the love of god, why!?"  
  
"It's complicated. They're reorganizing staff and they need an adviser to decide who's staying and who is holding the company back."  
  
"Great- my boyfriend is the new grim-reaper of the law industry."  
  
"Look here, Hermione, " Ron cried grimly, running a shaking hand through his hair. "Why can't you just take this like an adult? I need time! This job is big, very, very big. If I screw this up then I've pretty much lost my job. Jesus, why can't you just be happy for me?"  
  
Hermione felt the first tears stream down her face and swiped at them angrily.  
  
"I'm trying to be grown-up," she snarled, "but I'm finding it rather difficult after my boyfriend, who in case you didn't notice, I'm so in love with I want to marry, decides to skip town and tell me I can't have contact with him for . . . for . . ."  
  
"Four months," Ron admitted lowly, hanging his head and refusing to meet Hermione's eyes.  
  
"Four months!" Hermione gasped, feeling her eyes fill up again. She was to distraught to care though, as she continued to gape at Ron, feeling her heart breaking apart into millions of tiny pieces. "I thought you loved me?"  
  
"I do!" Ron cried out, wringing his hands together, "Hermione, I need you. You make me feel normal, complete. We're meant to be."  
  
"Then don't leave me!"  
  
"I have to go!" Ron roared before silencing himself. He then added in an a voice so quiet it was close to a whisper, "damn it, Herm, why can't you see that? I have to go!"  
  
"Then so be it," Hermione growled, standing up and shaking the wildflowers from her hair.  
  
They fluttered to the ground, rotating, as if they were in slow motion.  
  
Ron watched them for a moment before catching one, a yellow daisy, then scrambling to his feet and grabbing Hermione by the wrist.  
  
"I will come back for you!" He cried, hastily, tucking the flower behind her ear.  
  
"Promise?" she whispered, her anger replaced by a flood of sadness so overwhelming that it threatened to overcome her.  
  
"I solemnly swear, that once I have done no good, I will return for you, my Hermione . . . my queen of witches!"  
  
Hermione let out an involuntary giggle and shyly started to mop up her tear- stained face.  
  
"You're pretty when you cry," Ron said suddenly, helping her by using his soft, hand-me-down handkerchief.  
  
"Please don't let that be an excuse to make me cry."  
  
"I would never."  
  
"I know . . . will you promise me again? Just do so I know you mean it? I love you Ron and I don't know if I could live without you."  
  
Ron looked closely at her and for a single moment Hermione willed herself to believe that she could see his soul.  
  
Then in the their field, in a blur of daisies, passion and pure love, Hermione watched as her soul mate smiled at her, before taking her by the hand and kissing her cheek.  
  
"I promise you Hermione, I love you and I will come back for you. Always."  
  
__________________________________________________________________  
  
Next chapter---lets just say the mushiness comes to a very abrupt ending . . . 


	2. I love you not

**Chapter 1.**

_Dear Hermione,_

_This is the hardest letter I have ever had to write, but I really have no choice. I have to break up with you. I don't want to, but I need space. This relationship is getting far to serious but I'm not sure of how much of a future we have._

_Being away from you has given me a chance to sort out my priorities and given me the chance to access my goals again. This is a whole new world for me, and even though it kills me to say this to you, I have decided to stay here indefinitely._

_I am sorry._

_Send my love to Harry._

_Ronald Weasley._

Hermione stared at the letter that Ginny had just given her, trying to sort out her immediate feelings. This was near impossible however, as they tangled through her with as much mess as a basketful of colored string.

She was hurt, that was for sure. Actually, hurt was quite inadequate to describe her emotions. Hermione thought that devastated was a much more appropriate word. She felt as if Ron had plunged a knife into her heart, and then sprayed vinegar at her, while he kicked her chest.

"Is this what I think it is?" Hermione asked Ginny in a voice devoid of any emotion.

"Yes," Ginny answered sadly, not looking at Hermione, but at her rather fancily clad feet.

"Why?" Hermione replied simply, tear staring to well up in her eyes, "why, would he do this to me? Why didn't he speak to me himself, if she was so unhappy?"

"Hermione…"Ginny said, trying to pull her into a hug, but Hermione pushed her away. "This is Ron we're talking about. He's clueless. Oh, God, I wish he wasn't making me do this. It isn't fair for either of us. I wish…Oh, Hermione, I'm sorry. I just thought it would be better for me to deliver this letter rather then you just getting it in the mail."

"That's alright Ginny. It's not you who's breaking my heart."

"You know, it is alright to cry?"

At this Hermione lost control. Breaking into loud sobs she collapsed onto the sofa and buried her face in her hands, Ginny following quickly after her.

"Shhh…Its ok."

"N-no! It's n-not ok! Ron doesn't love m-me anymore! What else c-can matter?"

Ginny seemed lost for a moment, before replying earnestly, "remember sweetie, after ever rain storm there is a rainbow."

"Ginny." Hermione said, looking her straight in the eye, tears dripping slowly down her face. "If y-you believe that, then y-you are even more naïve t-then I was before this w-whole ordeal."

Ginny looked helplessly at Hermione feeling guiltier then she ever had in her entire life. Why was her brother being such a prat and causing Hermione so much extra pain? It didn't seem fair. Especially since Ginny had the all so unpleasant duty of delivering the letter in all its nasty glory.

As Hermione continued to sob, Ginny rummaged through her kitchen and discovered a pint of Choc-chip ice-cream as well as several boxes of chocolate frogs.

"He'll come to his senses." She told Hermione wisely, giving her a huge chunk of chocolate. "He'd have to be crazy to give up such an amazing girl."

"Thanks," muttered Hermione, her tears drying up as the chocolate worked its magic, "I only wish I could believe that more."

"He will! Trust me."

"Really?"

"Truly."

"That's Ginny…you always know what to say. You're right. This is obviously just another silly phase. Remember how he used to tease me endlessly, just because he liked me. I'm sure this is something silly like that."

"That's my girl!" Ginny cried happily, mopping up Hermione's tears, "now, lets see about watching some Boy-hating movies?"

Hermione nodded weakly, a smile spreading across her face. Ginny was right. This was just a phase.

The next morning Hermione struggled out of bed, and looked around her messy apartment with dissatisfaction. She hated things being unorganized, and wished that Ginny hadn't talked her into the second tub of ice cream.

Her apartment was large and spacious, with plain, yet sophisticated, cream wallpaper. Wooden furniture was artfully scattered about the room, as well as a large beige couch that looked like a peaceful island surrounded by a sea of polished wood floor. Scowling, Hermione stopped to adjust a beautiful (and _very_ expensive) painting depicting a violin that her old roommate Parvati Patil, a well-known artist, had sold her.

Hermione's job at the Ministry paid very well, especially now she had been promoted to Assistant Minister in the Department for International Relations. With her perfect French, Italian and German, Hermione had been just right for the job. She also had a wide knowledge of different countries as well as a wide range of references and alliances from past careers. It was rumored that she might well be the youngest International Minister ever, and her co-workers all adored her, leaving no room for jealousy and spite. Her only problem was her almost obsessive desire to have things perfect.

Marching into the Kitchen, Hermione picked up at least a dozen empty chocolate wrappers and started to brew some coffee in the muggle cappuccino machine that her parents had insisted on buying her as a house-warming present, two years ago when she had moved in.

When she was satisfied with the amount of caffeine swimming about her body, Hermione began to reflect on the issue that had been chasing through her brain the entire night.

After much deliberation she came to a final conclusion.

Ron was just confused.

It was obvious that they were meant to be together…Seriously; her mother had already begun to quiz her on the wedding china they might prefer. Everyone knew that they fought, and everybody knew that it was all in good humor…

_But he's never actually _broken up _with me before…_thought Hermione suddenly, feeling the first flash of doubt…_But…well, maybe its Ron's way of telling me he loves me. That's it! He just didn't see me so he assumed his love wasn't real. _

Hermione nodded, satisfied with her decision. Ron still loved her, but the separation was messing with his head.

All the same…she consumed another four chocolate frogs before venturing out to work. All the time, a little thought lingering at the back of her mind…

_I'm sure if Ron could just _see _me, everything would work out ok._

~*~

Ginny decided that it would be for the best to pay a mid-afternoon visit to her newly single friend. She wasn't exactly sure what Hermione was feeling right now, and she wasn't very keen on leaving her alone, only to discover a week later that Hermione had turned into a Alcoholic-Chocolaholic-Emotional-Wreckage mess.

It didn't take long for her to Apparate to the small street in Aylesbury where Hermione lived. It was quite a pretty area, covered with tall, sweeping trees and the sorts of corner shops where kids would spend their lives, saving up enough for a single gobstopper. 

Across the road from the apartment lay a sweet, little park, filled with toddlers enjoying the sunshine, as their frazzled parents huddled together in small support groups, plotting child care techniques and bragging about the physical strength of their tiny three-year olds.

Hermione's flat was part of an ancient block, built from crumbling stone and wrought iron fencing. Hers was on the very top floor, with a small Terrance garden and separate balcony. Overall Hermione was very well situated, in the sort of neighborhood that is filled with younger people, as well as several singletons, delighting in their new ageism.

Pushing open the heavy glass doors that blocked the crisp wind from chilling the already freezing flats, Ginny wandered into the lobby, then after casting a fugitive glance around, Apparated onto the top floor.

Strolling down the corridor, then knocking on Hermione's front door, Ginny soon became impatient when nobody answered.

"Hermione?" She called loudly, knocking harder. It wasn't like Hermione to be at work at this time in the afternoon. Usually she could be found in her office at the break of dawn, or at midnight. It was hard keeping up to the time as it changed constantly between countries, so Hermione tended to keep one _very_ unusual schedule that involved an afternoon visit to her flat.

"Herm?" Ginny yelled, trying to peer through the peephole, before a sudden voice made her jump.

"Hello?" said the Woman next-door, her dumpy figure wrapped tightly in a pink cardigan.

"Um…Hi." Said Ginny, smiling painfully.

"Can _I_ help you with _anything_?"

"No…well, yes. It's just that my, um, cousin, Hermione is, uh, needed for a drastic, uh, family emergency! Yes. That's it. A, uh, big problem with her uncle. Yup." 

"Oh, _no_!" cried Next-Door-Woman, tossing her mousy-brown hair as Ginny nodded earnestly, eyes opened as wide as she could manage.

"Yes…"

"_Well_, usually _I_ wouldn't do this, but as this is an _emergency_… Hermione left earlier this morning for work. I know, because she dropped in like usual to return my cat. You see, it _always_ manages to get into her apartment…we still haven't figured it out, but Hermione said she didn't mind, and _usually_ drops him off on her way to work. The _only_ thing was she came back about an hour later."

"Well, _I'm_ not the one to pry, but a _whole lot_ of banging and bashing was coming from her flat, so I decided to maybe drop in and see what all the fuss was about. Anyway, the second I was knocking, the girl came _barging_ out carrying a bunch of suitcases…"

"No!"

"Yes! So I _asked_ her where she was going, and she said she had some _pressing _business in London, and would I mind watering her plants…look! She _even_ left her key!"

"Well, I hate to interrupt, but my fathers medication is in that apartment, and unless he takes it soon, there will be hell to pay! Hermione was supposed to turn up at the hospital…" Ginny lied smoothly, as the nosy, harassed looking woman nodded quickly, and handed her the keys, beaming at her part in this big drama. "Thank you." Ginny added solemnly, "You have helped a great deal…"

"_No_ prob-"

But Ginny had already barged into the apartment, and hurried though looking about in dismay as she noticed several things Hermione could not do without were missing.

A rustle of paper drew her attention, and she turned to the desk, before groaning and picking up the note.

_To Ginny or Harry- whoever finds this first._

_I refuse to believe that Ron is truly done with me. There is only one logical explanation; that all this freedom had muddled his brain._

_So dear friends, I am off to London to discover where Ron is, and to figure out what our future is together._

_Don't try to contact me; I'll be back in a few days, with Ron by my side, just as it is supposed to be._

_Love always,_

_Hermione._

Ginny groaned in dismay. Obviously Hermione was not the sort to let sleeping dogs lie.

Oh dear, better watch out London, for in hours you are going to be taken over by Hurricane-Hermione. 

~*~

Harry Potter glanced around the restaurant trying to spy his date for the evening. It wasn't like his friend, Ginny to stand him up, but she was already fifteen minutes late and for someone so punctual, this definitely presented something quite drastic.

Scowling at his napkin, Harry glared around the busy Italian restaurant almost daring someone to catch his eye. Yes, Harry was most definitely in the mood for a good tantrum.

Today hadn't exactly been a good day. First off, he had drastically over slept causing himself to be late for one of his early morning practices. When he was twenty-three, after a good deal of screwed up careers, Harry had been recruited as the seeker for Puddlemere United. It was the perfect antidote for his rapidly rising boredom. So far he had concluded that this was the ultimate job for him. Playing professional Quiddich had always been a special dream of his, one he had lived out last year after being selected for the English cup team . . . the very same team that made it to the World Cup, only to narrowly lose to France, home to the best beaters Quiddich had ever seen. Missing practice was a big deal to Harry- he still felt as if he was dreaming, and a short sharp wake-up call was definitely not appreciated.

Not only did Harry miss practice, but he managed to sprain his wrist while diving for the snitch. One might assume that he could quickly charm it better, but unfortunately enough, sprains are one of the few maladies that magic is not equipped to heal. Like Madam Pomfrey had always quoted,_ "At least with a break, there's something there to charm. With a sprain, how the heck do you know where to point the wand!"_

So poor Harry had suffered all day with a painful arm, and a major lack of sleep. Not only that, but he had to suffer the weeks grocery shopping, and although he doubted anyone would believe him, Harry firmly believed that canned goods were the vicious, evil, scum of the earth, plotting to kill them all . . .he always half expected to hear a little, "_mwahahahahha"_ whenever he marched down the tin aisle. Not that he could explain it. It was just something he thought.

"Hi, Harry!" Cried a breathless voice, jerking him from his thoughts.

Glancing up, he met the brown eyes of Ginny Weasley, as she leaned over and hugged a stitch in her side. 

"I'm so sorry! Have you been waiting long?"

"Just . . . Oh, it doesn't matter," Harry jumped up and helped her into her seat, "what's up? You look like you've just run a marathon."

"You could say that." Ginny replied mildly, settling down into a seat and picking up the menu. "Lets just say we have one huge Hermione-and-Ron sized problem."

"So she got the letter?" Harry questioned, anxiously leaning forward.

"Yes- What! You knew about it before, and you never told me! Geez, Harry, I could've used at least a _bit _of help. Would you believe that the Git actually made me give it to her? Oh, Harry, you should've seen her face. He broke her heart you know."

"I know," said Harry seriously, "when he told me he was considering doing this to her, I never believed her actually would. I mean, its _Ron and Hermione! _I thought they were going to get hitched soon. It's kind of a wake-up call. If they can't make it, what chance do the rest of us have?"

"I know. Look, this wasn't what I need to discuss right now. We have bigger fish to fry."

"Really? Can it wait a few minutes? I think we need to order, the waiter keeps glaring at me as if I'm just here for the free bread-sticks."

"Gotcha," Ginny answered as she swiftly signaled the waiter. The two friends had been coming to this restaurant for years, ever since they had started off as flat mates in this district, so both of them knew the workings of the restaurant pretty well.

"What would you like this evening?" requested the waiter poshly, when he finally reached there table.

Harry studied the menu for a minute longer, then turned back to the waiter. "Do you have any specials this evening?"

"We certainly do," answered the waiter mechanically, "we have fresh spaghetti, served with a rich, creamy, wine sauce- this meal is also made with special herbs and the best mushrooms."

"Sounds great!" Ginny answered enthusiastically. She adored any sort of pasta, whether it be bolognaise of simple tomato paste.

"Any others?" Added Harry hopefully. Spaghetti was a prime meal at the Dursleys. A time that Harry would prefer to forget.

"Certainly, Sir. We also have Pesto Genovese, served with a fresh salad with beautifully marinated chicken sprinkled throughout."

"Hmm . . ." Harry mumbled, before saying politely, "I might just have a small Tomato and Basil Pizza. Would you like any entrees, Ginny?"

"Certainly, Harry. May we also have a serving of Herb bread, as well as two garden salads with the house dressing?"

Harry grinned at Ginny as the waiter took their orders down, and hurried off efficiently. Reaching over, he took her hand over the tablecloth.

"Why, Ginny! I didn't know that you remembered my side dish of choice?"

Ginny rolled her eyes and playfully swatted Harry's hand away. "I only lived with you for four years! Geez, I know what bloody laundry detergent you use!"

"Glad to see a woman who still knows the back end of a washing machine from a bicycle. Feminist movement gone out? Hmm?"

"Sexist Pig."

"I try."

Ginny could barely remember when Harry and she had become friends. Looking back, she guessed that it must have occurred when Ron and Hermione had started to go out, pushing the two of them into a much closer proximity.

No longer having to study her crush from afar, Ginny finally found she no longer thought of him as her crush, but as her friend. Things had only gotten better when school finished. Harry had been living in his flat for a year and was finding himself struggling to make the monthly payments. Ginny had been the solution, as her first job had been handed to her on a silver platter. She had been wandering down the street, wearing one of the gowns she had designed herself (being poor meant lots of handmade clothes, and Ginny had been making and designing since the day she had learnt to sew) when a rich Boutique manager had spotted her, and introduced herself as Claudia Crandle.

Claudia had immediately expressed an interest in her robe, declaring that the design was unique and fashionable. She had also asked Ginny whom the manufacturer was, saying that this sort of garment could do wonders for the store image, which they were gradually trying to improve. Thus Ginny had begun to sell her robes. Years later, thing were going wonderfully, and Ginny was even considering opening a clothes store devoted entirely to her collection, 'Gin'n'tonic'.

So Ginny had moved in with Harry, and although she moved out four years later, their friendship had been cemented.

"So what's this major problem?" Harry asked thickly, interrupting her thoughts.

"Its about Hermione," Ginny answered, fiddling with her napkin.

"Worse then Ron breaking up with her?"

"Much worse."

"Well? Going to tell?"

Ginny took a deep breath and swigged down some wine. "The thing is, I went 'round to her apartment this afternoon - you know- just to see if she was alright."

"Let me guess- she was a mess? Bawling?

"Worse. She's gone."

"What!" cried Harry, accidentally spitting out some basil. "What do you mean she _gone_? Where the hell would she go? Oh lord, don't tell me she suicidal?!"

"Settle down, Harry. What I meant to say is that she's gone to London. She's chasing after Ron."

"No. She can't. He's not ready to see her yet . . . he, uh, he has issues."

Ginny stared at him. "Harold James Potter. Do you know something that I don't?"

"Look . . . I'm not supposed to tell you this- if Ron found out he would kill me! Lets just say that it's not good. Not good at all."

"Harry, if you don't tell me, I swear I will scream."

"All right!" He cried urgently, glancing swiftly around. "Come here though- I can't risk anyone else hearing this."

Ginny leaned in closer, and then gasped in shock at what he indulged to her . . .


End file.
